Pizza Deliveries and Racism
by kuroikouma
Summary: In a world where infection didn't spread and Walkers didn't begin to destroy the earth, a certain redneck and Asian meet up in an awkward turn of events that leaves them bonding over the strangest of things. Daryl/Glenn.
1. Encounter One

It was the year 2009, pizza deliverers were busier than ever, and Glenn was balls deep in debt.

No, make that _eyes_ deep in debt.

Even after two weeks of delivering pizzas almost daily at two different pizza joints and living off of nothing but cup ramen and water for the better half of a year, he still couldn't see his kitchen table. After a certain point in time, bills, late-notices, and debt notifications and threats kind of refused to stay in nice, neat piles and insisted on spreading out _everywhere_, keen for his attention.

So Glenn ate on the dingy couch in front of a shitty black and white television.

Even in his dingy, debt ridden excuse for a life, however, there were times that made it worth not blowing his brains out (if only to prove his father wrong about being a waste of space). One of these times just so happened to include a couple of violent rednecks and a supreme pizza.

Driving out of Atlanta and onto the gravel back roads of Georgia was so _not_ in the job description. It was bad enough that his little power scooter barely had enough gas to get him to and from work for a week, was it really necessary that people out in the middle of fucking nowhere had to order pizza from their service?

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, the Korean maneuvered his scooter through the gravelly driveway up to the large, if somewhat run down, house. Just from the various car parts and couch sitting on their front lawn, Glenn had a feeling he knew the type of people that lived there. Now, he wasn't a racist man or anything like that, but he had lived in the south long enough that there were the southern city people, and then there were redneck hicks. While there were some people that were a mix of both, he'd seen very few (and being a delivery boy, he saw a _lot_ of different types of people). And the few rednecks he'd delivered to in the past weren't that bad, but they typically held out on the tip.

He parked his scooter behind a motorcycle (was that an SS symbol? Ohgod.) and an old pick up. As soon as the soft putter of the engine died out and he unloaded the extra large supreme pizza, Glenn could hear a soft raucous from inside the house that sounded like the type of not-so-serious argument over football.

A few moments later and he was standing at the porch, knocking because the doorbell didn't work the first time he pushed it. Muffled voices let him know that someone was coming, before the door swung open.

He'd guessed right. The man who'd opened the door and was currently staring him down intensely was dressed in sleeveless plaid, and it looked like he'd been wrestling with pigs earlier. Glenn didn't realize he hadn't said anything, caught speechless in just how stereotypically redneck someone could get, until the guy cleared his throat. "Th' fuck you want?"

"Oh. Uh. Your pizza- that would be twenty-three fifty," he replied at last, sliding the pizza out of its warmer and holding it up. The guy stared at him for a few more minutes before entering the house again, coming back with the exact amount and taking the pizza.

"Wait- no tip? You guys live out in the middle of-"

The moment the words were out his mouth, Glenn realized he was an idiot. A big, fat, _stupid_ idiot that was going to end up dead. The redneck, who was turning to go back into the house, had stopped to give him a look that probably would have dropped him dead if it was possible. What he said next, however, was something Glenn never thought he would hear, let alone from a guy he was delivering pizza to.

"I don't tip chinks."

And then the door was shut in his face.

For a few minutes Glenn just stood there, dumbfounded, before realizing that if he stayed there any longer he might come out again and he did not want that. So he quickly stashed the money in his payment pouch and hustled back to his scooter, not even bothering to look back as he shot out of there faster than was safe on those dusty roads.

That was encounter number one.


	2. Encounter Two

The rest of the week was extremely uneventful. Well, except for the idiot who nearly ran him and his scooter over because he was too busy yelling at someone on the phone, but that was an almost weekly occurrence. Apparently, Asians on scooters were free game for crazy ass drivers.

But there was one good thing: he had an afternoon off. Normally, Glenn tried to avoid days off as much as he could in order to make as much money to try and chip off his debt. Unfortunately, it was a Wednesday. No one wanted pizza on Wednesdays. So, that left one Korean sitting at home, scraping fried rice from the sides of a slightly soggy to-go carton from the Chinese place just across the street. They were greasy, but the food was cheap and filled his stomach. He wasn't quite in the position to be picky with what he ate.

He was trying to pick up a particularly stubborn pea when he heard a knock. For a few moments he debated answering the door, knowing full well that debt collectors could show up if they got too pissed off.

And if they were too pissed off and it was some kind of rogue collector... In which case, Glenn _really_ didn't want to answer the door. He valued his life too much to be on the receiving end of some kind of pissed off repossession man, even if all they could repossess were his sorry paychecks.

There was another knock, this one slightly more tentative than the last.

"Oh. Well. I guess a pissed off repo man wouldn't knock all nicely..." he muttered to the nearly empty carton, before sighing and setting it down on the crate he'd dragged in from an alley to use as a coffee table.

With a little grunt, he stood up and made his way over to the door, opening it just as whoever was on the other side raised his fist to knock again. Glenn felt his face pale and he flinched on reflex, _not_ wanting to be beaten black and blue by a still pissed off redneck.

"Ah. Um. It's you. I'm sorry about, uh, that thing with the pizza," he began to ramble, not giving the redneck a chance to explain himself or why he was there, only to realize something. "Wait. How the fuck did you get my address?"

"Called yer work," he stated, looking just about as awkward as Glenn felt. Except meaner. And dirtier.

"Oh. Well. I'm pretty sure it's illegal for them to be giving you that information but, um.." He trailed off, not entirely sure how to ask what the hell he was doing there without earning a fist in his face.

"Hold out yer hand."

Glenn gave him a stupefied look, probably looking very much like a fish. But, mostly due to the expectant look on the redneck's face, he did stick out his hand. He flinched again when the other lifted his own hand, eyes clenching shut, only to blink them open stupidly when he felt a piece of crumpled up paper being pressed into his hand.

It was a five dollar bill. "Um...?"

"Yer tip... Couldn' tip ya in front of my brother, Merle. He don't like chinks."

The explanation was painfully straight forward, but Glenn couldn't help but burst into a nervous fit of laughter. "I-is that so. Well. Uh. Thanks... do you want to come in...?"

The redneck raised an eyebrow at the offer before looking around just as awkwardly, as if expecting to see Merle (one of the people in the living room, Glenn guessed) come out of nowhere. "I guess," he replied slowly, his very pronounced Southern accent making it an even slower drawl.

Stepping aside and wiping his hand on his jeans, he made room for the redneck to step inside before closing the door. "Do you, um. Want anything to drink, or...?"

"Why're ya doin' this?" The redneck was looking at him with a critically scrutinizing eye, bulging arms crossing across his chest as he stared Glenn down. The Asian in question forced himself to swallow before replying.

"Well, you came all the way out here, and.. it would be impolite to just take the money and kick you out..." he explained weakly, still wiping his hands on his jeans nervously. He was practically flinching just under the redneck's _stare_, let alone what he would say next. "But, um. I'm Glenn."

"I know. Tha's what yer name tag said when ya dropped 'ff the pizza," he replied with a scoffing noise, his eyes rolling, "'m Daryl. And I'll take a beer if ya've got some."

Well, that went slightly better than expected. Glenn nodded before giving another weak laugh. "I'm too young to buy beer, but I've got, uh, water."

"Yer too young ta... Fine, water's fine."

Glenn could practically hear the disappointment and belittlement in the redneck's- Daryl's- voice. But still, he grabbed a glass from the counter and wiped a little bit of dust off before filling it full of water from the tap, carrying it into his make shift living room to hand to the stranger. His apartment was far from big- hell, it was practically a four by four- but it was comfortable... for him. Two people made it a little more cramped.

After he handed over the water, Glenn wandered back into the kitchenette to tuck the five into a jar full of coins and various one and five dollar bills. He called it his car fund- since he was tired of driving his scooter everywhere- but he knew it would end up being dumped into the interest he owed on his loans and rent. Speaking of which... he pointedly ignored the crowded, paper-covered table as he left the kitchen and joined Daryl, who had made himself comfortable on the overstuffed couch, in the living area again. Glenn remained silent, and for several long moments there was just an awkward silence.

"So... your brother..."

"Don' wanna talk about that. I just came ta give ya yer money... didn' wanna fuckin' sit around and swap stories like this was some kinda fuckin' campfire, chink."

Again with that word. Glenn flinched again, but not as badly as before. The fact that Daryl had come all the way out here to give him a tip had to mean that the whole _chink_ thing was more his brother's words than his. But it still stung like a bitch.

They dipped into another awkward silence as Glenn fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

"Merle was drunk."

The speaking startled Glenn. He blinked a few times before looking over at Daryl, who was leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, giving the Korean a look that didn't exactly scare him, but still made him nervous. The guy had one hell of an intense fucking stare.

"He only wants pizza when he's drunk. Yer just lucky it wasn't _him_ tha' answered yer knock. He would've probably knocked ya out cold and taken the pizza fer free," he continued, sipping at the water and making a face.

Glenn remained silent, waiting for him to continue before realizing that there wasn't going to be a continuation. He made a little noise in the back of his throat, tapping his fingers on his jeans as he tried to figure out a decent way to respond. He didn't want his ass kicked by _either_ redneck, even if Daryl had tipped him now. "Well. I guess it's better to not be tipped than to get the shit kicked out of me by a crazy ass redneck."

It was another moment when he wished he could've thought about what he said before saying it. Daryl had automatically jumped to his feet and advanced on Glenn quicker than he could think of a decent cover, his eyes narrowed and looking ready to kill. "_What_ was that about my brother, mm? Wanna say that again, _chink_?"

Feeling his stomach sink down somewhere akin to his knees, Glenn forced himself to swallow and come up with a quick response. "N-no, I didn't mean- it's just that- well, it's kind of _true_..."

Daryl fixed him with a cold, hard look before shoving past him and going towards the door. "Ya can shut yer fuckin' mouth, chink, before I shut 't for ya." The door slammed shut behind him.

That was the second encounter.


	3. Encounter Three

HEY GUYS! :D Your author here- you can call me Kate, if you want. This has become my most popular fanfic (granted, it's only the second one I've published, but still) and I'm really surprised! I'm not used to my writing being read this much and everything. This is chapter three- things are starting to go down now :D

There'll be one more chapter after this one- I'm not sure how it's gonna turn out entirely yet, but I'm sure it'll work out well in the end. Enjoy the read, and thank you for all the reviews!

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><p>A few days later, Glenn received another pizza order from a place way out in the middle of Hicksville, Nowhere. A very familiar address.<p>

"Ugh... Isn't there anyone else who can take this order?" he grumbled as he shoved the same, extra large Supreme pizza into his warmer. His manager fixed him with a crucial look and, without another word, Glenn shuffled outside and strapped the pizza onto his scooter before hooking his leg over it and speeding into traffic without looking to see if anyone was coming.

This time as he pulled up, he made sure to park a little closer in case he had to make a quick get away. The voices inside were louder this time, punctuated occasionally by a loud, deep laugh that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Clearing his throat, Glenn made his way up to the front porch, juggling the pizza to slide it out of the warmer as he knocked a few times. Heavy footsteps let him know his call had been answered, but when the door swung open, it wasn't who he expected.

"Th' fuck do _you_ want?"

This time, the redneck who answered was taller, larger, and infinitely more intimidating than Daryl. And he reeked of alcohol- whiskey, by the smell of it. If he looked close enough, Glenn could even pick out a little bit of white powder along his right nostril, but god forbid if he looked that close. "I, er. Brought your pizza," he replied at last, trying not to sound half as nervous as he was. "That would be twenty-three fif-"

"I ain't payin' no chink. How do I know that ya didn't put dog meat on it? 'r poison it, huh, chink?"

This was definitely Merle. And, as usual, Glenn's mouth opened before he could think it through. He really needed to stop doing that.

"Look, I know you don't like me but you still have to pay for the pizza."

God, the look he received. Merle was practically seething as he pushed off of the door frame now, one hand grabbing the Korean by the shirt collar as the other grabbed the pizza box, opening it and dumping the pizza on the ground.

"Oops," he sneered, holding Glenn close enough that he could smell the whiskey and tobacco on his breath. It was all he could do to not gag. "Looks like yer gonna have to go on back and make me a different fucking pizza, chink. And send a proper guy t'deliver it, got it?"

_Oh god, oh god, oh god I'm going to die_... Glenn's thoughts were running a mile a minute, knowing full well that he couldn't just go back and have them make a new pizza without telling them that he'd dropped it on the way over or something, and that was a sure fire way to get a pay drop. Or fired. Either one was not what he needed right now. "I'm sorry, but we can't really do-"

The next think he knew, the redneck was raising his now free fist. Automatically Glenn raises his hands to surrender, eyes clenched shut and flinching away... but the contact never came. He did hear a little grunt, though, and then the grip on his shirt disappeared.

When he stumbled back and opened his eyes, he saw a more familiar redneck pulling his brother back via an almost full Nelson, the effort visible in the way his veins were protruding from his neck. He took a few steps back, not wanting to get in the way if this turned into a brother-on-brother brawl. Judging by the size of their arms, they could do some serious damage. Especially if the fists at the end of those arms connected with a not-so-burly Korean who just wanted to get out of there alive.

After a few minutes of grappling, Merle stumbled off into what Glenn assumed to be the living room. His own eyes were wide and a fish look was once again parting his lips. Before he managed to force out sound, though, Daryl beat him to it.

"C'mon. I don' wanna be around when he sobers up," he muttered, grabbing Glenn's arm as he walked past, the door slamming shut behind them.

"God, he almost broke my face!"

When he was finally able to speak, it was a panicked sort of sentence that ran together and sounded almost like one word. The shock was hitting him hard enough to not realize that Daryl was lifting his scooter like it weighed nothing and setting it into the bed of the pick up he'd parked behind. Neither did he realize that he automatically climbed into the passenger's seat when he was told to.

It was only when they were halfway down the gravelly road leading back to the city that he finally clued in. "Wait- where the hell are we going? I have to go back to wo- oh god, I didn't get the money for the pizza..." An exasperated groan escaped him, his head falling against the head rest with a solid thump. For several moments, the only sound was the crackling of the radio which occasionally let up to play a mix of classic rock and old country. Even Glenn, who normally wouldn't keep his mouth shut when he was panicking, was panicked to silence, his eyes shut as he ran a hand over his face.

The gravelly bumps turned into a somewhat smoother pavement and then the truck stopped. Frowning, Glenn finally opened his eyes to see that they were parked in front of a restaurant. 'Hometown Diner', to be exact.

"Uh...?"

"Look. 'm sorry that ya had t'almost have the shit beat outta ya. Normally I can get ta th' door before Merle, but I was in th' can at th' time..."

"Okay, too much information!" Again, Glenn raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes wide in horror at the thought.

"...but anyways, I read somewhere that food's supposed t'help ya 'f ya go into shock or somethin'..."

Oh. That explained the diner, at least. Daryl shut off the engine and shoved his door open, and Glenn reluctantly did the same, following him much like a kicked puppy up to the diner and inside. It was definitely a place for rednecks- almost everyone in there looked like some kind of blue collar worker, and none of them noticed as Glenn slid inside behind an equally redneck personage. He followed the other to an empty booth and took a seat across from him, fingers tapping nervously on the table before a waitress (popping her gum like the world was going to end) walked up and handed them menus.

Glenn opened up the two page menu in an awkward silence, not entirely sure what was appropriate to say in this setting. Thank you, maybe? Or that he couldn't afford to pay his half of the check? Yeah, maybe that was a good idea... "Thanks and all, but I can't really pay for..."

The look from Daryl shut him up instantly. So he slid back down in his seat, staring pointlessly at the menu until the waitress came back up again. After taking down an order for a beer and chicken fried steak, she turned to Glenn, who clammed up again. Was this some kind of test? Oh god. The last thing he wanted was to be beaten within an inch of his life by a whole building full of angry rednecks. "Uh. I'll have a water and, um, what he got," he answered finally, handing her the menu. She scratched down the second order and then sauntered back behind the counter to place them.

Once again, they were left in an awkward silence. Or at least, it was silent until Daryl spoke again. Then it just became an awkward conversation.

"Fuckin' pissed off my brother fer you, chink," he stated at last. "Hope yer happy now."

"Hey! I never asked you to step in!" Glenn replied quickly, a disbelieving look on his face.

"Yeah, but if I didn't ya were gonna be pulp 'n our front porch."

Well, fuck. He had a point there. Glenn opened his mouth once, then closed it, and then opened it again in an attempt to come up with some kind of witty quip. He failed.

"Yeah, but... I didn't expect you to do that. Not after you nearly beat my face in back at my apartment when I insulted him."

Another glare. "If ya actually thought about what the fuck you were sayin', maybe I wouldn' have t' threaten ya."

Case and point, again. Goddammit, this redneck was sharper than he anticipated. Wasn't there some kind of rule that said that rednecks weren't _supposed_ to be this smart? Oh, wait. Saying that made him just about as bad as Daryl... Oops.

"I've been telling myself that a lot lately..." Glenn mumbled in response, going silent as the waitress set their drinks and food down before sauntering off again.

They ate in silence for several more minutes, the awkwardness beginning to settle in. The Korean chewed his slightly overcooked steak for a bit longer than necessary just to have a reason not to speak, actually not minding the southern food all that much. It wasn't something that his mom cooked back when he was living with them, so it was definitely different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, just... different. And it wasn't comforting at the moment, either.

"God, goin' home's gonna fucking suck..."

Glenn glanced up at him again, a clueless look on his face for a few moments before realizing just why he said that. "Oh. Um. Well, I have a couch..."

Daryl looked up at him again, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. For a few moments, the pizza delivery boy debated taking back what he said... but that wouldn't be the best, he figured. Clearing his throat again, Glenn looked up at him again.

"I have a couch.. and since you bought me dinner, the least I can do is take you home, right?"

"...th' fuck are you talking about, chink? 'm not some faggot!"

Oh, right. That whole think before you speak thing. Not one of his strong points. "O-oh, no, I didn't mean like that- It was a joke! Honestly!" he replied quickly, eyes widening in a mixture of fear and wariness.

"Ya think ya can just _joke_ about that kind of shit 'n here?" he hissed, shaking his head and looking around nervously. "Fuck, chink. Yer gonna get yourself killed out here."

Glenn gave a little nervous chuckle before replying. "Aha, yeah... I kind of figured as much. But I mean it- you can sleep on my couch tonight if you want. I have work tomorrow morning and you've seen that I don't really have much, but it's better than nothing, right...?" he offered, taking off his baseball hat and running his fingers through his hair.

There were a few moments of palpable silence as the waitress came by and set down their check, which Daryl picked up and paid for just as silently. "Yeah, I guess," he replied finally, before sliding a ten and a twenty across to the Korean. "And tha's fer the pizza. Even 'f Merle didn't get t'eat it."

For once, Glenn withheld his comment about how it wasn't his fault the redneck tossed the pizza. He did, however, mutter a soft thanks for the payment and slide it into his payment pouch, withdrawing a five to slip into his own pocket for the tip balance. "I dunno where you're gonna park your truck, though... my apartment doesn't really have a parking lot for the residents... Wait." Belatedly, a thought hit him. "What did you tell my work to get them to tell you my address?" His eyebrows furrowed together in a curious worry.

"Oh. Jus' that I was some cousin twice removed'r some shit an' that yer aunt died, so I hadta get yer address t'tell ya," Daryl replied offhandedly as he stood to leave.

"...that actually _worked_?" he replied, eyes wide in surprise as he stumbled after the redneck.

"'s not like they saw me 'r anything. It's easy t' pass fer a chink when they can't see ya."

Again, Glenn bit his tongue. He thought his manager would know well enough that, with his family, they didn't _have_ any redneck relatives, twice removed or not. But Daryl didn't know that, and he didn't _need_ to know that. Not right now, anyways. The last thing he wanted was to be taken for an uppity chink.

Silently, they filed into the pick up again and drove into town, the only noise between them being the slightly less crackling radio. Daryl managed to find a parking spot in a cheap parking lot a few blocks away, and he helped Glenn unload his scooter before walking it up and into his apartment. The secretary paid no mind as they wheeled it into the elevator.

"It's not much, but it should be kind of comfortable, at least.." Glenn muttered under his breath as he unlocked his door and slipped inside.

"As long as ya let me buy some beer, we'll be good. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..."

Leaning the scooter against the wall, Glenn made his way into the kitchenette to pour himself a drink of water. "Make yourself at home," he called out, leaning against his counter and watching as Daryl dropped a duffel bag in front of the couch. When had he packed that? Did he keep it in his pick up in case he needed to make a quick escape or something? God only knew.

"Ya 'n some kinda debt'r somethin'?"

Daryl was looking pointedly at his kitchen table... or rather, the papers on top of the table. "Uh. Yeah... Only a couple grand," he replied sheepishly, clearing his throat nervously and scratching the back of his neck.

"Jesus fuck, chink."

"Hey, I have a name!"

"I know ya do, but yer a chink. So tha's what 'm calling ya."

With a scowl in the redneck's direction, Glenn took a seat at the table and began shuffling through the bills and debt collection notices in an attempt to sort them out at least a little bit. Over the rustling of the papers he didn't hear the other male walk up behind him until he started to speak again, making the Korean jump slightly.

"If I stay fer more than a few nights, 'll help pay yer rent," he stated at last, shocking Glenn a little more, his eyes widening as he looked over his shoulder at him.

"What? You plan on moving in or something?" Glenn replied, "Jeez, moving fast aren't you?"

"Shut yer fuckin' mouth, chink," Daryl growled, smacking him on the back of the head before moving into the living room and plopping down on the couch. "It's just that Merle ain't gonna be happy with me when I do come home, so." He punctuated his answer with a little shrug, as if it was the simplest answer in the world.

Finally following the redneck into the living area, Glenn gave him another stupefied look. "If you pay some rent... Yeah, I guess I don't mind..." he replied slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it. He hadn't exactly been looking for a roommate, but if Daryl didn't mind sleeping on the couch, then why the hell not? It would make the rent cheaper, and that would help infinitely.

And that was encounter number three, which never really ended.


	4. Adjusting

HEY GUYS! Writer here again :D Just saying that this turned out being longer than I expected, so there will be more than just the four chapters. I expect at least one more full chapter after this one, so keep your eyes peeled.

Thanks for all the reviews- this chapter was a little harder for me to write, so I hope you enjoy!

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><p>A month had passed, and Glenn was still mildly panicked about the ever growing pile of papers on his kitchen table. Hell- he didn't even really have a table anymore! It had turned into a shelf to hold the end of his miserable existence.<p>

Having Daryl around to help with the rent was nice, but both of them were working two jobs at barely minimum wage and, for some ungodly reason, the redneck kept sending one paycheck to his brother. Every. Single. Payday. There were a few times when Glenn wanted to just turn around and ask what the point of that was, but he knew what the response would be. The last thing he wanted was to be snapped at for being a nosy, ah, chink, particularly when he had already gone this long without getting his face beaten in.

Instead, he settled for figuring that it was because Daryl's good for nothing (although he would never say that to Daryl's face- he _liked_ being in one piece) racist brother didn't have a job. From what his new roommate told him on occasion over a beer or two, Merle was constantly in and out of jail for assorted crimes here and there, most of which were because of the Aryan Brotherhood that he joined during a particularly extended stay in prison. Glenn made a mental note _never_ to go back to that house, pizza delivery or not. The more Daryl went on about his older brother, the more he was starting to miss his own home life, as strained and quiet as it was.

It was one of those days now, when they both had a rare break from work and let them actually chill in the mess of the pathetically small apartment without having to think about their worrying. Daryl was on his third beer and Glenn, who opted not to drink, was sitting on the couch, head leaning against the back cushion, with his baseball cap covering his face. They were both silent.

"Hey, chink. Why don' ya live with yer family anymore, if yer that much 'n debt?"

The gruff voice pulled Glenn out of his spaced out reverie, jerking his head up and making his cap fall soundlessly to his lap. "Um, well..." Having been caught off guard by the question, he didn't quite have a decent reply. Telling the truth just seemed awkward, around the burly redneck.

"I, uh. Didn't want to bother them anymore," he replied plainly, sounding very stiff and scripted.

"...anyone tell ya that yer a horrible liar, chink?" The Korean couldn't tell if the look that accompanied those words was amused or irritated that he tried to lie.

"I have a name!" Glenn retorted quickly, his lips turning down into a displeased scowl that he got caught. "It's not that important... I got kicked out." His truthful answer was punctuated by a little shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world to be completely disowned.

There was another string of silence between them, broken periodically only by Daryl swallowing a mouthful or two of beer and the sharp clatter of the glass bottle on the floor as he set it down again. "Fer what?"

Another shrug. "I wasn't the son my father wanted me to be. I guess he should've taken the hint when I failed physics my sophomore year," he answered, forcing a little laugh and shaking his head. "But he made me take more advanced placement classes anyways." After the other's confused look, he added, "You know... College classes they teach at a high school level."

"You got kicked out 'cause ya sucked in school?" His disbelief was written across his face.

"Well... and other reasons..." Glenn muttered under his breath, before raising his voice to a decent speaking level again, "But yeah. My father is a physics and calculus professor at Georgia State. He wasn't going to tolerate a less than successful kid.."

He trailed off there, as if lost in thought, before managing to shake himself out of it. "After I skipped the AP testing Senior year to, ah, have some fun with a group of guys, he threatened me to an inch of my life," he continued slowly, thinking about his words before forming them, "A few months before that, he made me put in applications to Harvard and Yale and all of those other damn schools. He wanted me to be a doctor or something, I don't really remember.. But I didn't get into any of them. Half assed the damn essays, and since I barely passed my junior and senior year, they didn't even bat an eye. Between that and getting a pizza delivery job my sophomore year that I wanted to continue, well..."

Glenn shrugged. Not getting into the schools hardly bothered him- he didn't want to put forth the effort into being a doctor or a scientist or whatever his dad wanted him to do, so it wasn't much of a big deal for him.

"After graduation, when we got home, all of my shit was packed up into a bunch of suitcases. I guess I'd known it was coming, since my father was getting more distant and my mom was keeping Danielle away from me. My father just looked at me, told me I was estranged and no longer part of that family, and bid me a good day before going to work."

Silence settled between them, a little more awkward than before. Glenn's leg had started up a nervous bouncing rhythm, making the floor boards creak in an annoying repetition.

"Shit, man. And ya _don't_ drink?" Daryl chuckled under his breath, shaking his head and finishing off his third beer and setting it next to the other empty two. "But ya've got me curious now. What sorta fun were ya havin' during those tests 'f yers?"

Damn. Glenn had been hoping to have glanced over that well enough that the redneck wouldn't have noticed, but it seems that his plans had been thwarted by the once again overly observant bag of muscles sitting against the wall. A sheepish little grin spread across his lips as he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, partially obscuring his mouth as he mumbled a reply.

"Oh, y'know... Hot wiring cars... guy stuff..."

For a few moments Glenn had hoped that the redneck was either too buzzed to comprehend (he knew he wouldn't be drunk- he'd seen Daryl go through an entire six pack in two hours and not be drunk) or he hadn't heard him, but those hopes were dashed as another chuckle reached his ears.

Luckily enough for Glenn, Daryl simply shook his head in mild amusement, his head flopping back against the wall as he grumbled about it being too hot. Air conditioning was expensive, even in the apartment complex, and because of that they had none. And even though their window was cracked, it was a dry, still day outside, so there were no breezes to waft in and cool them.

Finally, the heat grew to be too much for the burlier man, who stood and muttered something about taking a nice cold shower to cool down before disappearing into the bathroom as usual. Glenn followed him with his eyes, a little peeved that he'd gotten the idea before he had. Oh well... cold water never ran out, so there would be enough when he was done.

While he waited, hearing the shower sputter on, the Korean forced himself to stand and make his way into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from a small bowl on the counter by his second- or third-hand toaster he had gotten for cheap from a neighbor.

Even the apple tasted warm, instead of crunchy and cool. With a disgruntled grumble, Glenn forced himself to finish eating it, telling himself the next bite would be better, given that he couldn't afford to throw away food. Maybe it was soft _because_ he could only afford cheap stuff... Either way, it wasn't pleasant, and by the time he tossed the core into the trash he wished he hadn't even started eating it.

Hearing the door open across the room, Glenn wiped his apple sticky hands on his jeans before looking over, feeling the tips of his ears turn red as Daryl stepped out with only a towel around his waist.

They'd been living together for a month, and it wasn't like either of them had any parts that the other didn't. Aside from that, well, the redneck's parts were slightly more defined thanks to his work outs, but that was the only difference! And yet, despite their obvious sharing of the male gender, Glenn found himself staring at the other when he would wander around shirtless which, sadly, ended up being pretty often in the summer it seemed. And he would stare for longer each time, too, just narrowly avoiding being caught.

For a while he managed to convince himself that it was just because Daryl managed to stay so goddamn ripped even though he hadn't seen him go to a gym or work out once in the last month. After he realized that he worked as some kind of mechanic that involved a lot of heavy lifting, that was no longer a wonder of his... but he kept staring.

"Th' fuck're ya looking at, chink? Somethin' wrong with my face?"

Oh, shit. He was still staring. Clearing his throat quickly, Glenn averted his eyes and shook his head quickly. He could feel the tips of his ears burning, but his face felt paler than the white washed walls surrounding them. "N-no, I was just, uh, figuring out if we needed new towels or not..." Another painfully obvious lie.

At least a fraction of luck was in his cards, because Daryl simply gave him a look that asked if he was shitting him. In order to prevent himself from digging an ever deeper hole, Glenn simply muttered that he was going to take a shower, too, before slipping past him and into the bathroom.

Contemplating and deciding against beating his head against the door, Glenn simply started running the shower, keeping it a few degrees colder than he usually would. The shower itself took a little longer than usual, mostly because he spent most of the time staring at the wall blankly, just enjoying the slightly warm water that passed over him. It was only the loud pounding on the door that snapped him out of his staring fit.

"Hey, chink! I needta take a piss, so hurry the fuck up!"

"Ever the polite one..." Glenn muttered his breath, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel. Knowing Daryl wouldn't wait long enough, he quickly toweled off before wrapping it around his waist and shoving the door open.

"There, you can piss now," he answered with a little roll of his eyes, waiting for the door to shut behind him before crossing the room to the chest he used for his clothes, pulling out a pair of jeans and a baseball style shirt. Hoping that Daryl wouldn't open the door at the most inopportune moment, he shed the towel and pulled on his boxers first and then his jeans, only then hearing the door click open.

"Yer not nearly 's scrawny as ya look."

"Wha...?" Twisting to look over his shoulder, Glenn gaped at the other male as he tried to figure out what he meant.

"You. Ya look like a fuckin' stick half th' goddamn time." Again, Glenn's answer was a confused expression and a few empty blinks. "Yer fuckin' muscle! God, are ya stupid, chink?"

Daryl muttered under his breath and shook his head, now wearing one of those cut off shirts he seemed so fond of. In his confusion, Glenn looked down at his chest and then back up at the redneck before it finally clicked. Well... that was a weird sort of compliment, wasn't it?

"Just because I'm not throwing around car parts and showing off my arms all the time doesn't mean I have to be skinny!" he snapped. Sadly, he should have seen Daryl's answer coming.

"Yeah, but th' fact that yer a chink does."

Slowly, a stupid grin spread across his lips and the Korean began to laugh out of sheer amusement at the utter predictability. The other male snapped at him, demanding to know what the hell was so funny, but Glenn was too busy laughing to reply. More than anything he was focusing on not falling over and embarrassing himself.

"I-it's just that..." he forced out between what could be called giggles, "I _knew_ you were going to say that."

For a few moments Daryl just stared him down. And then... a little snort escaped him and he began to chuckle as well. Before long they were both laughing, having moved from awkward roommates to a sort of understanding. While Glenn doubted that they could consider each other _friends_, it was better than worrying about being offended by being called chink, or worrying that his face was going to be beaten in. It was... comfortable. At least.

Finally they managed to relax and stop laughing, with a few tears on Glenn's side from how hard he had been laughing. Wiping a hand over his face, he shook his head a few times before turning around to pull on his shirt.

Oddly enough, though, even though he no longer heard Daryl laughing, he had the bizarre feeling that he was being watched. No, not just watched- _stared_ at. It was weird. And why the hell would the redneck be staring at him? It's not like he had anything on his back... right?

His suspicions were confirmed when he turned around just in time to see Daryl avert his eyes. What was that all about?


	5. Confessions

HEY GUYS! Look- you've gotta reread this chapter :'D For some reason it didn't completely upload before, so the reason why it seemed to lack closure was because it wasn't done! I'm sorry! :C But here it is- nice and finished for you! **It's now complete, as I wrote it~**

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><p>The heat had gotten almost unbearable. As nice as Atlanta was, without air conditioning it turned into one of the most brutal hells ever in the summer time.<p>

Daryl spent most of his time either shirtless or damn near close to it- the sleeveless tops he chose to wear before and after work still didn't do much to cover him, which was the best way to go in this heat. Glenn, on the other hand, opted to wear lighter shirt as opposed to going shirtless. He'd never really grown fond of wandering around without a top.

Days like these, though, wearing a shirt was asking for a death warrant. Glenn had fashioned a fan out of one of the envelopes covering his kitchen table, but his shirt was still sticking very uncomfortably to his skin. He was sprawled out where he sat on the couch, eyes closed and head resting on the back as his hand moved on its own, attempting to make some kind of breeze with the paper.

Through the heat of the day he heard the door open and then slam shut. He forced an eye open to watch as Daryl tossed his work bag to the ground, grumbling to himself and making his way to the kitchen, more than likely to grab a beer.

"I don't think I'm ever going to move again. Ever." Glenn broke the silence, punctuating his sentence with a dramatic groan. He lifted his head from the couch, feeling the hairs stick to his neck uncomfortably.

"'s fucking hotter outside. Quit yer whinin'- you haven' even been workin'," the redneck snipped in response, cracking the lid to his beer.

In response, Glenn raised his middle finger from the fan. He was beyond grateful not to be working today- his delivery uniform was hotter than anything, and in this sun he'd probably end up melting onto the pavement somewhere. That would be one hell of a pathetic way to die.

Daryl plopped down on the couch next to the Korean, taking a few deep gulps from his beer in an attempt to cool down. Glenn didn't dare comment that water would help more than the alcohol- he knew he'd just get called a pussy and then ragged on until he was forced to drink a beer too.

"I'm thinking about going out tonight, after it cools down," he commented out of nowhere, "There's a girl that I met a few weeks ago- she invited me."

"Tryna get laid 'r somethin'?"

Glenn paused in his fanning to give the redneck a dirty look. "So what if I am? It's been way too long since I've had sex. You can't blame me, dude."

There was silence between them again. Daryl took another mouthful of beer, pointedly not looking at the other male on the couch when he was looked at expectantly.

"Wait. You've gotta bee shitting me." The look in Glenn's eyes was of utter disbelief- Daryl was a _virgin_? "You've gotta come with me to the party, then. It's some college thing-"

"Why th' fuck would I wanna go t' that? Sounds like a bunch of fucking lame ass kids blowin' their parents' money on shitty beer."

A scowl crossed over his lips, but Glenn refused to be trumped by that. He forced himself to sit up and shake his head. "C'mon. Even you can't turn down a bunch of free drinks," he reasoned, smacking the larger male's shoulder. Even if it was shitty, it was still _free beer_. And judging by how Daryl acted at home, well... That should be more than enough to get him going.

For a few more moments, Daryl just glared at his roommate. Then, finally, he shrugged. "Fine, whatever. What time does this little college frat shit start?"

Grinning like a fool, Glenn gave a little shrug in response. "It doesn't really start at a time... just whenever anyone shows up. But Maggie won't be there until a little after nine."

He thought he heard Daryl muttering something about that giving him enough time to get shitfaced before going, but he opted out of replying and instead shrugged, forcing himself to stand despite the heat and make his way into the kitchen.

The next few hours dragged on slowly, mostly due to the sluggish heat that sank into every fiber of their being. The two of them forced down a sad excuse for dinner- some kind of soup found in the back of the cupboards- before heading out to the party. Despite Daryl's earlier mutterings, he hadn't had anything other than that first beer and therefore refused to 'ride bitch' on Glenn's motorcycle.

By the time they managed to find a parking spot a block down, the house was already nearly packed with college students. Most of them moved out of the way for the two, given that Daryl looked about ready to kill someone. The redneck in question managed to shove his way through to grab a beer from the kitchen, while Glenn (the unofficial designated driver) slipped into the living area. No one wanted to dance outside- it was way too hot, but judging by the smoke filtering in through the back door, Glenn assumed that he back patio was made the smoking room.

"Maggie!" he called out, seeing the short haired brunette from across the room. A grin spread across his lips as he made his way over, glad to have found her.

"I was wonderin' if you were even going to show up!" the girl replied with a laugh, her slight southern accent almost hidden by the loud, bass-heavy music pumping from the stereo system.

"You know I'm all for this underage drinking," Glenn replied sarcastically, a stupid looking grin still spread across his lips. "But I brought a- um.."

The words slipped from his brain the moment that Maggie slid her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, the way her body rocked and stepped signaling that she was trying to get him to dance. A nervous chuckle left him instead, but he managed to fall into step with her. "You know, I'm a terrible dancer, right?"

"Yer doing fine," Maggie reassured him with a wink, her cowboy boots making soft clicking noises against the floor in time to the music. It was an out of place sound that seemed to blend right in to the conversations around them and the thudding bass of the music.

They fell into an irregular rhythm of bumping and grinding, occasionally sharing a joke or an awkward moment (the awkwardness more on Glenn's end than anything). Maggie convinced him to take a few sips of her beer, but the bitterness turned him off of snagging one of his own. Oddly enough, however, while they were dancing Glenn couldn't shake the feeling of being stared at.

Twisting around so that they were facing a different direction, Glenn realized why. From across the room, with a beer in one hand and the other shoved into his jeans pocket, his roommate was staring at him with a look in his eyes that he didn't recognize. He looked pissed off- like he was mad he was dragged here and then ditched.

Glenn's eyes were wide a bit in shock, but any thoughts of just why he was on the receiving end of such a venomous glare disappeared as Maggie pulled his face down and pressed her lips to his, quite thoroughly distracting him.

Several hours passed, and there were numerous times when Glenn would look up from Maggie to meet the sharp, blue stare again, sending chills down his spine. It was kind of creepy- did Daryl have some sort of redneck psychopath side that he hadn't seen yet...? Whatever it was, he would have to remember to bring it up later. Maybe after Daryl sobered up.

"I've got work tomorrow," Glenn apologized with a lopsided, nervous grin. Maggie didn't look pleased with this new development, but nonetheless pushed a small piece of paper into his hand.

"That's my dorm number, if ya ever wanna swing by," she told him with a wink, leaning forward to kiss him slowly again before pulling back and walking over to a group of girls.

The kiss earned another stupid looking grin from Glenn, a grin that remained until he made his way across the house to where Daryl sat in the kitchen with another beer. Then the grin disappeared. Daryl fixed him with that same, cold glare as before, ruining his previously lovely mood.

"Uh... I take it you're ready to go?"

"I was ready fuckin' hours ago..." Daryl grumbled under his breath, standing and shoving past him to head out the front door.

Confused, Glenn followed him, snatching the keys for the pick up from his drunk roommate before slipping into the driver's seat. The drive home was long, tense, and quiet. Daryl's fingers drummed impatiently on the middle console, and in the corner of his eye the Korean could see him gnawing on his lips like he was starving.

The walk up to their apartment was even more tense. Glenn wasn't sure how much Daryl had at the party, but that looked he'd received still haunted his thoughts. He wanted to know where the hell it came from, but he also knew that if he brought it up at the wrong time, he could piss off the male and get a fist to the face. The last thing he wanted was to go to work with a black eye the next morning.

So Glenn said nothing as Daryl stripped out of his shirt and pants, pulling on a pair of boxers to crash in. Their apartment had cooled down now that the sun had set, but not well enough to where it wasn't burning hot still. He forced himself to swallow and look away from the redneck, ignoring the slight skipping feeling in his stomach at seeing Daryl strip down like that. He blamed it on the excess excitement of the party.

As he stripped out of his own sweaty clothing, though, he found it hard to say the same of the fact that he felt that same intense gaze on him _again_. Glenn was tempted to snap and ask him what the hell it was about, but by the time he pulled on his shorts and turned around to say something, Daryl was on the couch, back to him, and snoring quietly.

Making a mental note to ask about that in the morning, he crawled into bed, sighing softly as the cool sheets graced his sweat-slick skin.

When Glenn woke up the next morning to the annoying buzzing of his alarm, Daryl was already gone. There was lukewarm coffee in the pot, so he had a feeling that it hadn't been too long ago that his roommate had left. Shrugging it off, he poured himself a cup and gulped it down quickly, his face scrunching up in disgust at how dark and bitter it was. Normally, he doused his coffee with enough sugar to make a diabetic go into cardiac arrest at a glanced, but he lacked the time for that this morning.

After choking down the almost cold, bitter fluid, he pulled on his uniform and darted out the door. It was just as hot as it was the previous day, if not worse, only now he had to work it through. Luckily enough, the heat was making people crave food that _wasn't_ pizza. The less pizza ordered, the less time Glenn had to spend melting onto the pavement. It was a lose/lose situation, but at least this way he wasn't as hot while losing.

By the time he made it home, he was hot and disgustingly sweaty and miserable. His only greeting to Daryl was a vague groan as he stumbled into the bathroom, intent on showering the heat and grime away.

Glenn spent his time under the spray, delighting in it for as long as he could justify before shutting it off and stepping out, toweling dry as much as he could. For a few moments he stood naked, staring at his clothes and debating if he should put them back on or grab something clean.

Finally he decided to pull on his worn jeans, picking up his shirt but not donning it, and leaving the bathroom. He saw Daryl look up from where he was sitting on the couch, but didn't pay much mind to it as he crossed the room to grab a new shirt. The denim of his pants felt a little uncomfortable as they stuck to his damp legs, but it was better than just a towel, like he had before.

But then that feeling struck him again, just as he was about to pull on a clean shirt. Daryl was staring at him again.

"Why do you keep staring at me?"

The look that Daryl shot him was confused. "Wha?"

"You! You keep staring at me... do you like me or something?"

It had been a joke. A simple, ha ha, funny joke. Or at least... it had been, until Glenn noticed the vague pink tint to the other male's cheeks and the way that he was grumbling under his breath and avoiding the Korean's eyes.

Glenn's grin continued for a few moments before his mouth slackened into a look of surprise, eyes widening. "You... you're shitting me. You can't- I mean- what?"

Daryl shot him a dirty glare before standing up from the couch. "Ya know, I don' care what the fuck ya think about me for it. I'm fuckin' leaving."

Before he could get to the door, Glenn launched himself forward to grab his arm, still looking vaguely shocked. The questioning look he received was nearly scathing, and he forced himself to come up with a quick answer. "Er... I mean... It's just that..."

A groan escaped him and he let go of Daryl's arm, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You don't have to go... It's not like I'm mad at you or whatever. I mean. I guess I should have kinda figured it out..."

"The fuck does that mean? You sayin' I act like a fag?" Daryl's words were practically snarled as he turned to face Glenn.

"No! But, I mean, uh... After last night, I guess I kind of should have figured it out..." he trailed off for a minute before continuing, "God knows you were glaring Maggie down like she ran over your dog or something."

For a few moments, Daryl just stared at him like he was stupid. Then, a forced laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "Yeah, well. Th' fuck ever. It's not like it matters, right? 'cause ya have that Maggie chick anyways."

The Korean had a vague hunch at what his roommate was really worried about- the whole _gay _thing. If Daryl was and Glenn wasn't, it would make things a little more difficult in general. But then again, what Daryl didn't know was what was making this a little harder on him than was absolutely necessary. Secrets and all that.

"Me and _Maggie_? Is that what you were worried about?" A strained noise that could have been a laugh left him. "Daryl- I had to do _something_! You were the last person I'd expect to return any kind of feelings- we were just fucking, it wasn't like we were in a relationship!"

The next thing he knew, Daryl had landed a solid punch on Glenn's arm. And then another. He was scowling, but it was better than storming out of the room.

"So... uh... yeah..."

"Shut up, chink."

The stupid grin that almost spread across Glenn's lips was smothered by something he hadn't quite expected: a pair of chapped, rough lips. It was far from being particularly pleasant, all teeth and rough lips and then a pair of equally rough hands on the back of his neck, but it was nice.

When the kiss was broken his grin did spread, and the little chuckle that joined his grin was rough, just like the owner's lips.

"Y'know... I never thought I'd date a racist."

"And I never thought I'd date a chink."


	6. Epilogue

OKAY GUYS. JEEZ. YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED. :D A nice, cute little epilogue w Thank you all so much for reading _Pizza Deliveries and Racism_! If any of you have an interesting little idea for a drabble or short fic, let me know and I may write it for you!

Enjoy the last part!

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><p>The summer months passed by quickly, and soon the staunch heat of Atlanta melted into a breezy, rainy fall and then a mildly cooler winter. Between both of Daryl's jobs and both of Glenn's, they had slowly began chipping away at debt payments on the apartment, furniture, and loans, even if the Korean grumbled as Daryl signed check after check.<p>

"'m tired of gettin' all those damn phone calls," was his only answer when Glenn shot him dirty looks.

Come December, his debt had shrunk substantially. There was a lingering worry in the air that had nothing to do with debt, however, but entirely with money. Stores had put up fake Christmas trees and had been playing Christmas music since Thanksgiving (which Glenn and Daryl had celebrated with prepackaged turkey and burnt stuffing), and with this new decor Glenn had started to worry about the _other _thing that came with Christmas: gifts.

Pretty much all of both of Glenn's paychecks went towards bills and food, even with Daryl chipping in on half. Two minimum wage jobs were still minimum wage, particularly when he succeeded in sending in a new bill payment without Daryl finding out and having to pay.

Glenn had spent hours wandering around after work, staring into department store windows and picking out gifts he _would_ buy if he had the monetary ability. The one thing he'd been eying lately was a crossbow care set at a local hunting store- he'd heard Daryl's stories about how he preferred to hunt with crossbows as opposed to rifles or shotguns, and the package included a new set of bolts, cleaning supplies, and new wax for the string. The only sad thing? The package was over two hundred dollars.

So he simply sulked back home, keeping the gift in mind in case he struck gold one day cleaning out his apartment.

Needless to say, by Christmas day, Glenn had still been too broke to buy his boyfriend (and god, was that still weird to say) any sort of gift. And to make it worse, Daryl had mumbled some kind of excuse for having to spend Christmas with Merle, leaving the Korean alone in the apartment that day.

"For being so damn small, you feel really big without Daryl here..."

Glenn's words were muttered to the empty air as he sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and eggnog in his hands. Between lack of work and his roommate not being home, the day had gone by painfully slowly. It was even worse, knowing that Daryl probably wouldn't be home until the next morning.

As he sulked at the table, he glanced over to the small, pathetic little juniper bush that Daryl had cut down for their "tree". It had a few dingy ornaments on it, and Glenn remembered nearly dying of laughter when they tried to pot it in a much too small pot. There had been soil _everywhere_.

But now the bush just looked dingy and depressing, especially thinking of the man that had cut it down and brought it home.

With a frustrated groan, he forced himself to stand, pouring the rest of his coffee down the drain before wandering over to the bed. Given that he had work the next day and that Daryl wasn't home, he couldn't think of a reason to stay up right now. The sun had set a while ago, and the only light on in their apartment was a little side table lamp next to their bed.

Daryl had gotten tired of sleeping on the couch, so one day after work Glenn had gotten home to find his old bed and mattress out on the curb of the apartment building, and a new, larger set inside. He hadn't even bothered to ask about that, even if he hadn't taken the redneck for the type to enjoy sleeping in the same bed as another guy... Even if that guy happened to be in an odd sort of unspoken relationship with him.

Neither of them had really _cemented_ the relationship by asking one or the other out.. It just didn't feel right between the two of them. The closest they'd gotten was their first little awkward moments, but even out in public most took them as friends.

Granted, it probably didn't help that Daryl was vaguely panicking whenever they were out in public, worried that his brother or someone that knew his brother would see him and Glenn together. And Glenn, well... Public displays of affection had never been his strong suit.

So they settled on a simple routine- in public they just acted as they always did. It was in private that the awkward bantering turned into even more awkward bantering, only this time with attempted flirty over- and undertones.

Glenn shook his head and yawned, about to lift his shirt over his head when he heard footsteps outside the door. Thinking nothing of it, he continued what he was doing, tossing his shirt into the corner of the room. The rustling of the shirt masked the quiet opening and closing of the door, so the rough clearing of a throat nearly scared him shitless.

He spun around with wide eyes, only to exhale heavily when he realized that the only person there was the redneck in general. Wait.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Merle's?"

Maybe that wasn't the _best_ thing to say right off the bat. Daryl gave him a sharp glare in return, keeping something hidden in his hand.

"Jeez, ya act like yer not happy t' see me or somethin'..."

"I am! It's just. Well. You said you would be at Merle's..."

"He's drunk. So he wouldn' notice nothin' if I disappeared. Can't leave my chink alone on Christmas, after all."

He was flattered, really. _Honestly_. The usage of racial slurs had become terms of endearment between them, even if Glenn still rolled his eyes at the constant use of them as opposed to his name.

Glenn gave him a little, awkward grin before getting over his surprise, walking over and wrapped his arms around Daryl's shoulders. It was nice, getting surprised like this. "Merry Christmas, Daryl."

"Yeah, yeah. Don' get all sappy on me now," he muttered in response, but nonetheless gave him a tight hug back. "Why didn't ya plug in the lights?"

For a few moments, the Korean was confused at what he was asking, Then he turned to look over at their "tree", and it clicked. There was a string of lights wrapped around it, but the plug laid on the floor as opposed to in the wall. Daryl disentangled himself from the other's arms and made his way over, kneeling down to plug the lights in.

Immediately, the white lights flicked on, casting a weird set of shadows on the walls that would've been creepy if it wasn't for the atmosphere.

A few moments after, Daryl took a seat on the floor in front of the tree and looked expectantly over at Glenn, who followed him much like an Asian puppy a few minutes after the lights flicked on. He took a seat next to the redneck, who slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to lean against his more built form.

For several minutes, they just sat there together. It was nice, comforting sort of, with the warmth of their bodies and the nearly fluorescent lighting of the tree. Actually, now that he thought about it... The past few months, after they got over their awkwardness, had been some of the most comfortable for Glenn in a very long time... almost his entire life, actually. He allowed a small smile to spread across his face, simply enjoying the moment.

"Oh. I got ya somethin', too..."

"Hey! I said you better not do that!" Glenn's smile turned into a scowl as he slapped the redneck's shoulder, not exactly pleased that he'd gone around what he'd said and actually got him a gift.

"Yeah, yeah, but when do I listen to what ya tell I shouldn' do?" Scoffing off Glenn's chastising, he shifted to fiddle with something next to him, out of the Korean's line of vision.

Frowning, the Korean in question twisted to try and see what the hell he was doing, but stopped when Daryl turned to give him a look that told him that he'd better stop before he stopped him. With a pout, Glenn stopped trying to peer around him, but gave him a glare nonetheless. Finally, when Daryl turned back to look at him, he gave him a curious look, wondering what the hell the gift was.

"Hold out yer hand and close yer eyes."

For a few moments, Glenn gave him a curious look, before doing what he was told to. He thought he heard Daryl mumbling something about 'hoping it fits', before his hand was taken by a pair of rougher, calloused ones. There was a bump of something cool and smooth, before it slid onto his middle finger.

"You bought me a _ring_?"

To say Glenn was freaking out would be an understatement. This was- well, considering what rings _usually_ meant- way unexpected from Daryl. _Extremely_ unexpected. They'd only been together for around six months! Not long enough for this step! His eyes were wide and his mouth had fallen slack in shock as he stared at the redneck, not even looking at the thin band around his finger.

"I'm not fucking proposin' to ya!" Daryl's reply was quick and hasty, sounding almost embarrassed. He shook his head a few times, free hand sliding up to rub the back of his neck before groaning and continuing his explanation.

"I'm not asking ya to fucking marry me or anything... It's just that I don' like all those girls who keep flirting with ya. Yer mine, chink, so now they'll at least stop flirting."

Glenn stared at the redneck. That was... eerily cute, coming from who it was coming from. The possession he could understand, but the symbolic way of going about it?

Finally he looked away from the redneck and down at the small silver band around his middle finger. It was simple, but he expected no more from Daryl. His free hand moved to stroke the smooth silver with a little smile, not entirely sure how or what to say with his thanks. So, he decided on something equally simple to thank him.

Glenn turned and placed a small, chaste kiss on the redneck's cheek, that small smile still spread across his lips when he pulled back. Daryl was looking at him curiously, as if trying to figure out his response.

"Thank you," the Korean said at last, giving a light laugh at the little turn of a smirk he got in reply.

"Yer welcome, Glenn."

"Y'know. This is turning out to be a better Christmas than I thought- you even called me my name!"

The subtly snide remark earned Glenn a sharp punch in the shoulder before they both began to laugh, somehow finding each other's lips in the middle of it and sharing their second, but far from last, Christmas kiss.


End file.
